


one and two and

by BleedingBishop



Category: Kingsman (Movies), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-19
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-10 00:20:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8919250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BleedingBishop/pseuds/BleedingBishop
Summary: "An Englishman wearing Tartan - how odd.""It's plaid, but I understand your point. My many suits made by exotic loom boys have been packed away for the season."





	

The speed at which the guy had acquiesced to his shrill demand of "FUCKING DRIVE!" was highly impressive.

And so was the speed.

Merlin had no desire to remain in the local area, what with the delightful band of merry men following him were after is head on a spike. Or a hook. Or even just his head, these fellows didn't appear to be picky, which Merlin could appreciate.  
But he'd've appreciated it more were he not being chased by them.  
The mission had gone perfectly well, until that rat of a Jasper snitched. Two months of constant work, integrating himself into his targets community, into her social circle, her personal life, only to have it ripped out like a wound. He got what he wanted, the information he had been sent in for, but it was highly important that he exited as neatly as he had inserted himself, as it couldn't be known that the information had been leaked, stolen or otherwise taken from them.  
And now he was being speeded through the dark night of English countryside, with a hooded stranger at the wheel, followed by two black vans, subtle in a blatantly obvious way.

"What the bloody hell is going on?" His driver asked, his voice quiet over the dirty rev of the car. Merlin hadn't gotten a look at the car as he jumped in the backseat, The whistle of silenced bullets hitting the turf behind his heels a more pressing matter, but now he could hear the ratty purr of an old car, feel the worn fabric seats, see the stacks of books in the other footwell and farthest seat, titles unreadable in the dark. The car carried on speeding, nipping around the winding country road corners with quite a skill.

"Well there are a few old friends-"

"I don't know what friendship is like in Scotland, but down here we generally shoot at each other during daylight hours, a sporting chance after all." The murmured witticism from his driver was surprisingly welcome, Merlin though, the situation was as tense as a bow string, but a sarcastic comment somehow calmed his heartbeat slightly. The smash of the wing mirror, shattering around a lucky shot from the band behind them, brought him back to his problem with immediate effect.

"What's the plan?" His driver barked.

"Get off the road and loose the tail. Is there any way we can figure out the area?"

"I haven't crashed yet, I think we can safely say I know the area, even in the dark. How do you need to get rid of them?"

"I just need to get away. Go dark." Merlin nodded quickly to himself, as if agreeing with his own plan.

"There's a layby quarter of a mile down here, with a field next to it."

"I don't think a layby would cut it." Merlin said, and would apologise later for how snappish he sounded.

"No, but the hay barn that is in the field is more than capable of hiding a car and its rude occupant for as long as he should need to be hidden." The retort was civil in word, but not in implication.

The carried on weaving dangerously in the tight lanes, hedges and potholes scarcely avoided by the manic driver. Merlin looked back and swiftly twisted in his seat and wound down the back passenger window, flicking off the safety of his weapon.

"Oh, so you were just letting them shoot at us for a jolly, were you? ETA one minute, so fill your boots." The driver grunted as he turned the wheel viciously, and they turned sharply down a less than cared for road. The darkness of the lane engulfed the car as the driver switched off the headlights, and sped up in the dark. Merlin growled low in his throat and made every attempt to return fire.

"Hold tight we're going off road - any distraction to the driver nearest us would be appreciated." Merlin nodded and concentrated fire at the windscreen of the first Jeep. True to his word, the car slid neatly between the hedges on a widening of the road, and Merlin let up fire to go silent.

Headlights, rear lights.

Headlights, rear lights.

Merlin sighed, twisting and falling back to face forward in his seat. A matter of switching the safety back on and dropping it into his lap as his companion crawled up a hill, and did not stop until he crested and began a slow decent into another field. The haybarn was a dark shape against the dark sky, and the smell of straw cut through Merlin's open window before he wound it closed once more as the car pulled into its shelter.

"Here, This shall do you until dawn." The driver quickly switched off the engine and got out. Gingerly Merlin did the same.

Shaking his arms, Merlin took a few deep breaths to get some oxygen back into his blood, and turned to face his driver... who was busy growling at his missing wing mirror.

"Fucking arseholes, just replaced the mirror last week. 'Oh what did you do now Mycie? Well I was drafted into some cat and mouse chase with a Scotsman and it got shot off. Oh don't be silly boy, just fix it.' Like I've got money squirrelled away after he keyed my door..." The rest of the tirade was lowered to grumbles and mocking high pitched whining, no doubt an impersonation of Mycie's carer. 

"I'm sorry, about your car." Merlin said. The man looked up. Merlin walked closer to his and offered his hand.

"Merlin. Thank you for your help." Mycie looked down and back again.

"If I shake your hand, I'm not going to end up with a broken wrist and a stint in some MI cell for the week for helping a fugitive, am I?"

"Can't imagine my getting out of here would be made easier if my driver couldn't drive." A pause, and Mycie reached up to knock off his hood, short wavy hair that was probably curled without product and round face covered in freckles revealing itself from shadow.

"Mycroft. Now, would you mind giving me the Civilian version of events so I can at least pretend I know what's going on?" He liked him, Merlin decided.

"I was at a party, suddenly I was being chased by security. Must have been black tie." Merlin said, pushing his hands into his pockets. Mycroft raised a brow, before turning back to his battered vehicle.

"That exciting, huh?" He said around a smile.

"I don't have a clue what you mean."

"Okay - well, if that's it, what are your plans from here?" Mycroft took a slow walk around his car, an old five-door that had probably had a careful owner in the past. The obvious distaste for the holes and general ravishment of his car left Merlin feeling, not guilty, but appreciative of Mycroft's driving capabilities - no one injured, even if a large bill for repair would hurt later.

"Attempt to check in with my boss, get back to London."

"A long walk from the train station, Merlin." Mycroft called from the other side of the car. He continued until he reached the back, where he stuck the keys in and twisted the lock for the boot to pop open, and drag out a large blanket. Merlin frowned as Mycroft shut and relocked the boot, before opening the door, gently pushing the books to join their brethren on the floor, and climbing into the back of the car.

"What are you doing?" He walked up to the open door and leant in, resting his weight on top of the cars roof.

"I'm trying to get some sleep. You have three options here. One, start walking the nine and a half miles to the nearest train station. Two, sit outside in the dark and freeze your haggis off. Three, come sit in the car where it isn't cold while I catch some rest and I'll drive you to the train station at dawn. What's your choice?" Mycroft unzipped his thick jumper, folded it to put under his head and lay down across the back seats.

"You're letting a stranger into your car, who has a gun and could be in a position to make sure no witnesses get out, and you're going to sleep?" Merlin asked incredulously.

"Well as you've decided your getting in the car already, please get in and close the door." Mycroft rolled over. Shaking his head, Merlin patted Mycroft's already bent legs to make them move up, and sat in the warmer car, leaning further inward as he closed the door. They breathed in silence for a minute, before Merlin couldn't help himself. Pulling his weight around by resting his arm across the back seats, he said

"Seriously?" Mycroft hummed in question, and opened one eye to look down at him.

"I've got a weapon and you're going to sleep."

"Well I'm certainly trying. Listen, I don't know who you work for, and I'd be a fool to ask, so I'm just going to assume you work as a security officer and leave it at that. You've got training, so you've got the phycological green light from whichever suited doctor you work with, you've got the brains to not shoot civilians with it." Mycroft closed his eye again and sighed deeply.

"As for the 'I could shoot you' issue, I'm probably dead in the morning after I snuck out and will return with a car without a wing mirror and enough holes to make it whistle even under twenty, so delaying the inevitable by not killing me now isn't in my best interests. Shoot away McTrigger." 

Mycroft rolled to turn into the back of the seat, and pulled his jacket over his head. 

"An Englishman wearing Tartan - how odd." A mumble and Mycroft revealed himself again. Merlin nodded to the lining of his hooded jacket.

"It's plaid, but I understand your point. My many suits made by exotic loom boys have been packed away for the season." He yawned. Merlin scoffed.

"How exotic?"

"Oh, north of the Thames, at least." The pair chuckled, but was cut short by the both of them yawning this time. "Get some rest."

"Think I might join you."

"Mmm yum, lucky me..." His companion murmured sleepily, and was out in moments.

Unlike Merlin, who was staring at his seat mate with wide eyes and was certainly not sleeping anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> I have an epilogue of sorts waiting in the wings, when they reach the train station, but that's really for you to decide whether you want it.
> 
> I know the difference between Plaid and Tartan but I dunnea gives a monk  
> (tartan is the 'pattern', plaid the stretch of fabric)


End file.
